Two Ships Passing In The Night
by LR Earl
Summary: Hermione Malfoy is trapped in a cold marriage when just a few years ago, she had everything: a doting husband, a lovable toddler, and a warm home. It shattered the day she buried her son. The strain proves too great for the young couple as they struggle to keep their marriage alive. Can they overcome such hardship together? A story of forgiveness, heartache and above all, love.
1. Don't Speak

_Disclaimer: The characters and world found within do not belong to me, but to the lovely JK Rowling._

**For the reviewer who asked where the title of the story came from: it is from a quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.**

"**Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence."**

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Chapter One: Don't Speak

Hermione Malfoy sat at the vanity mirror in her en suite bathroom staring at an empty face. She had risen before her husband, as always in hopes to pull herself together before the day began. No doubt there would be visitors, well-wishers, and family members stopping by; as much as she hated it, she could not stop them from coming over. Sleep had not come again last night, and she spent the better part of the evening staring at the ceiling after tossing and turning. Her husband found sleep and solace in the empty bottles on the floor beside the bed. She sat at her bathroom sink and placed her head in her hands and rubbed the weariness that seem to be etched into her face. She looked much older than her twenty-eight years.

Anniversaries were hard.

She willed the tears not to fall today, so many had already fallen in this past year alone. None more so than the day her mind just would not let her forget.

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_Two Years Ago_

"I don't care what the Healer said at Mungo's, I think we need to take him to a muggle doctor," Hermione insisted as she picked up behind little Leo Malfoy. The precocious toddler currently found a new use for his Quidditch figurines, but she had had enough the moment one pricked the bottom of her foot.

Her husband, Draco Malfoy sat idly on the couch, reading the _Prophet_. "Completely unnecessary. The Healer said he'll be walking regularly in no time. It's completely normal, love." His eyes never left the paper.

She stopped her march behind Leo in the middle of the living room and stared at him in disbelief. "Completely normal? He's a little over two and should running perfectly fine by now. Instead he keeps tripping and falling over nothing! Something is the matter, Draco." She continued on muttering to herself. He chose not to respond at what he called her 'hovering' but the sharp cry brought both of them their feet.

Hermione reached Leo first and shushed the toddler's cries. He grabbed his ankle in pain and she placed a tender kiss to his ankle and a soothing pat to his blonde curls that never seemed to lie flat. "There, there. See it's all better, darling." She rocked the toddler in her arms on the floor and looked above his head to Draco standing over her, a raised eyebrow in defiance. She made up her mind that night to take him to a muggle doctor in the morning.

She supposed if she knew, she would have insisted on Draco coming with her, despite his distaste for entering muggle London. She supposed if she knew, she would have least asked her mum to accompany her. She supposed if she knew, she would have listened to her husband and never went at all.

But she was, if nothing, stubborn and her instincts told her that something was wrong with Leo's physical development despite his bubbly and lovable personality, and if the magical world could not find the answer then she would take him all over the world to find one.

They sat playing with toy broomsticks in the doctor's office when he returned an hour after Leo's physical and she waited patiently for the news. Her gut twisted when the doctor said the word "abnormal", then dropped when he "further testing" and she lost all ability to comprehend when he said, "cancer".

She smiled brightly and shook her head. "It's just his ankle, possibly nerve damage or something." Or _something_ she convinced herself. Bloody doctors, always trying to test for what wasn't there. They would put you through the ringer just for a simple infection or cold, in the name of science. She supposed could have understood, but looking down at the two year-old wrapped around her leg, she really couldn't.

But determined to get to the bottom of this once and for all, she made the next appointment for the minor surgery to inspect Leo's blood. Draco, busy with work, was on travel in France with Malfoy Enterprises anyway; she could do this by herself. Gryffindor courage and all that.

She bundled the toddler up and brought him in to the closest hospital the next day and sat in the waiting room for exactly eighteen minutes before they called her back to the recovery room. The little angel was still sleeping when the doctor came back with the results.

Her memory went a little fuzzy at this point and she supposed if she wanted, she could pull the memory from her mind and relive it through a pensieve. But for protective purposes, her mind did not allow her to remember everything.

Just the pitiful face of the doctor who came to greet her. The words, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy," and "Your son has Leukemia," and "We can start treatment..." and then a blank stare. She remembered sitting on the hardest, most uncomfortable chair in her life, staring at the fruit of her womb so tiny on that hospital bed and thinking simply, "no."

She couldn't recall how long she sat there. She remembered the doctors calling her mum and dad, since Draco was unavailable by muggle means. The hospital did not have an owlery. By the time they did arrive, Leo had awoken and she bravely put on a happy face for her little boy. She prayed to God that he could not read the sad looks and hugs being shared by his mother and grandparents. She prayed to God that Leo missed the tears that squeezed out of her eyes when she hugged them back.

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_Present Day_

She blinked back the tears sharply, determined not to get sucked back down that dark tunnel again and quickly ducked her head to hide her weakness as Draco came tumbling into the washroom. He was half-dressed and completely hung over. Not a towel was out of place in their immaculate washroom, but he still grumbled and cursed to himself and she heard the sharp crackling of bottles being thrown on the ground. She would have winced, but this was par for the course now.

She heard the sharp 'clink' as he opened another bottle and took a healthy swig. "Draco, don't you think-" she started.

"Don't tell me what to fucking think," he roughly ordered through clenched teeth as he grabbed his robe and left for parts of their home unknown. But she had an idea where he was going. Even in their worst of times, he would never stray too far. His room always drew him back. She looked back to her mirror and traced the dark circles that shone under her eyes. She had begun using small glamour charms to hide the fact that she was grieving, but after a few months, she did not care anymore.

Tightening her robe about her waist she walked down the empty hallway, searching for her husband. It had been harder to actually break the news to Draco when he returned from France that dreadful day.

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.

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_Two Years Ago_

"What the fuck is this? Some bloody joke?!" he yelled in their small kitchen and his voice carried louder than intended.

"Be quiet, you'll wake Leo," she blinked back tears. "And why the hell would I joke about something like this, Draco? Huh?" She shook her head fiercely. "It's not a joke. Leo's…he…he's sick. Very sick. In the muggle world, they call it cancer. It's when-"

"I don't need a bloody biology lesson, Hermione! I know what cancer is. Fucking muggles and their muggle diseases!" He overturned the barstool in the small kitchen and it hit the floor with a loud bang. She jumped back at the impact, but she continued on as reading a potions lesion, her brain on autopilot.

"We need to start treatment immediately. It's the only way," she trailed after him when he left the kitchen in disgust. She walked behind him, determined to keep up with him and make him hear her. "There's a good chance they can eradicate it if we start treatment right away. Draco!" she lowered her voice to a harsh whisper as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. "Draco, are you listening to me? Don't walk away from me!" she whispered sharply, trying not to wake their sleeping son.

"What do you want me to fucking say? Let some muggle doctor fill him with poison that'll tear out his hair. This is my son-"

"And he's my son too!" she shouted to his face and the tears rained down again that day. Red-rimmed met red-rimmed eyes and she wavered. "He's my son," her voice broke, "and you can't ask me to sit by and do nothing…" She broke down in heart-wrenching sobs and he pulled her fiercely into a tight hug. Soon his tears joined hers and the young couple wept in the open hallway, desperately trying not to wake their sleeping toddler down the hall.

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_Present Day_

She stopped in front of the door that meant everything and nothing to her. The enchanted "L" she had decorated on the front door still hung there. She would have never entered in the room willingly and pretty much made an effort to not go in at all, but she pushed the door open and found him sitting on the floor in the middle of half-packed boxes, a half-empty bottle in his hand. It wasn't even mid-morning and half the bottle was gone. It was not going to be a good day.

She sat down next to him and drew her knees to her chest. "I thought we agreed not to come in here," she spoke softly. She took a deep breath and willed herself to look around the room; the perfectly decorated little boy's room. Magical scenes played on the walls and the ceiling dance with racing Quidditch figurines. It was not too long ago, that she and Draco sat in this room, decorating it and preparing for his arrival. It seemed like ages ago.

"I can go where I bloody well like." He broke her reverie. "If you don't want to come in here, then don' fucking come in 'ere." And his words began to slur. She hesitated to take the bottle from him, but she found herself anticipating his anger. He had never physically hurt before, but on today all days, Draco was sure to lash out. She reached forward and put her hand on the bottle, which he promptly grabbed and tried to yank back from her hands. "Fuck off." She knew he did not mean it.

"Draco," she sat back and pleaded in desperation, "Our family and friends will be here within the hour. Please," she tried again for the bottle and missed as he moved it away from her. "You _promised_!"

"Yeah well promises get broken, don't they?" he lashed at her. "I made a whole bunch o' promises to Leo and where that end up?!" Hermione swore sharply.

She had to swallow twice before she could continue. "You made a promise to _me_." After a moment, "I'm still here."

Draco looked at her through red-stained eyes and unkempt bangs. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Not anymore," he mumbled to her and stood to his feet. She was perplexed.

"What do you mean?" She tried to scoot closer to him, but he pulled away.

"I want a divorce," he murmured sadly and her heart broke twice that morning. On the one-year anniversary of their son's death, her husband asked to leave her. To break the promise he had given to her. She did not leave Leo's room, even when well-wishers started to arrive and Draco had long left her sitting on the floor hours before.

Anniversaries were hard.

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To be continued…


	2. Well-wishes

_Author's note: Thank you kindly for the reviews, favorites and alerts. This will be a long fic and I hope to update regularly. It won't always be pretty, but then again life never is. I hope you enjoy. Please review and let me know what you think._

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Chapter Two: Well-wishes

The conversation of the small gathering floated up through floors, and Hermione tried her best to shut it out. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus. _Okay. Okay. _She could puzzle this out. She rose from the ground after what seemed like hours of frozen shock. She straightened her robe and ran a hand through her hair in effort to tame her mane. It was too late to get dressed now.

She held firm to her logical strength, the very intellect Draco loved about her he had admitted. She stumbled to the wall as she bid the tears to remain at bay. She would not think about Draco. Her eyes strayed to a magical portrait on Leo's wardrobe. Inside the charmed frame sat a photo, taken hours after Leo was born at St. Mungo's. Draco, blond hair tussled and unruly and shirt rumpled from twenty hours of hard labor, held a small, sleeping bundle in his arms. He looked down at his son in wonder for a moment before beaming back up at the magical camera, love and pride reflecting in his eyes, a slow smile climbing his face.

Hermione turned the frame down, unable to bear the happy memory. This photo was one of her favorites and she usually tried to cling to any happy memories she could. It was proving hard to remember happier times in the past two years alone.

Sometimes, she would blissfully dream back to when she and Draco were newlyweds in every sense of the term. His parents had gifted them their first home, a five-bedroom cottage in the countryside after the marriage ceremony and they spent the first few months rarely leaving the grounds; they could barely keep their hands off each other. They would lay around the house, laughing quietly together, eating, making love, and making plans for the future. She wanted the stars, he wanted the moon; they both resolved to get it for the other.

She exited out of Leo's room and wandered down the hall, still cloaked in her morning robe. The master bedroom door was locked, which meant that Draco was somewhere deep within the room, no doubt going through another bottle. She did not have the heart to face him and she wondered who was speaking with the guests since she (and probably Draco for that matter) had yet to go downstairs to greet them.

No longer caring about her outward appearance, she walked in light-slippered feet down the stairs and pulled her robe close over her chest. The parlor room seemed to hush as the lady of the house finally decided to greet her guests after they had been waiting and mingling for over an hour. "Um…" She willed her mind to work and lightly put on a tight smile. "I want to thank you for coming." Gods that sounded horrid even in her mind. "It means so much to Draco," she stumbled over her husband's name, "and I that you've thought about us at this difficult time," her voice wobbled but it did not break. Small miracles.

The faces blurred into one large sea of pity and she willed herself to continue in spite of the silence. The sooner she finished, the sooner they could leave. The sooner she could get back to her fucked up life. She almost envied that her friends could leave back to their normal, healthy lives and she would remain behind with her broken and pain-filled sham of a marriage – broken marriage she gathered now. She longed to leave with them and pretend for little longer.

Her gaze stopped on Harry and Ginny Potter, his arm about her ever-growing stomach. That's right - how could she forget. They were expecting their first child as well. A son, if she remembered from Harry's letter. She blinked back tears of unfairness, but it did nothing to stop a lone tear from falling down her cheek. "I'm afraid Draco will not be able to join us, but he sends his thoughts," she quietly finished. She wrapped her arms around herself in the following silence and waited.

Slowly one-by-one, they came up to hug her and she was sharply thrown back to Leo's funeral procession where an endless stream of well-wishers came to give their condolences. It had seemed as though London's entire Wizarding population had out come to say goodbye to the youngest Malfoy heir.

Back in her parlor room one year later, that endless stream had dwindled down to Harry, Ginny, Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lavender, Luna, Neville, Draco's friends, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Millicent, a few Ministry acquaintances, Minerva McGonagall and a small group of current Hogwarts professors she did not recognize. She got lost after a while and automatically smiled and received the well wishes on autopilot.

She had noticed that her in-laws were conversing softly with her parents in the kitchen. They had yet to approach her, no doubt ready to question the _real_ reason to Draco's absence, but she knew they would wait until the others had left before broaching such a topic. She unwillingly got carried into a conversation about Leo's first birthday, no doubt someone trying to cheer her up, but little did they know it just cut her more on the inside.

She tried not to let the bitterness seep into her words as she made small chat with Ginny about her son's impending birth. Ginny wisely kept the conversation light and repeatedly ask her about her own well-being instead. She wanted to scream at her: _my son is dead and my alcoholic husband wants to divorce me! _But instead, she just told her she was managing. They all responded with the age-old adage that time heals all. She wanted to scoff and laugh. She knew they were just trying to encourage her, but she could not see anything past this morning and the announcement Draco had just dropped in her lap. Her world was upending, again.

After some time had passed, the last of her visitors left. She waited by the front door, waiting for the inevitable.

"Hermione, darling. How are you doing?" Narcissa's soft voice asked behind her. She did not turn to address the woman.

"How do you think?" she remarked bitterly and closed the door, once the last of her guests had Apparated away.

"Hermione, we are just concerned about you," her own mother admonished her. She turned to face them then. Her parents as well as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy looked as if they had aged a decade in the past year alone. The ever-stoic and well-put together Malfoys looked lost ever since their grandson had passed. For however short his life was, she was grateful that his grandparents spared him no love lost because of his blood status; Narcissa had doted upon him something terrible. She took solace that they were grieving right along with her, but unfairly she acknowledged that they still had their own children, where she did not. She knew it was not fair, but her mind could not comprehend fairness and unfairness at the moment. It just could not.

"Well, I'm here and I'm alive. What more is there?" She moved past them into the kitchen, suddenly wanting something to do with her hands. As long as she could keep busy, then they possibly couldn't notice the slight shakes that started to overtake them. Tea, yes tea would do. A polite hostess should always offer tea and she rummaged through the cabinets, loudly slamming each one a little louder than the last.

"Where is my son?" Lucius drawled behind her. She moved about the kitchen preparing her tea and biscuits. Her hand shook slightly while she poured water into the kettle at Lucius' question, but he did not miss it. "Has something happened?"

She shook her head. "Draco is in our room. You know how he is," was all she would offer. She gathered she was going into shock and if she simply did not think it or voice it aloud, it would not be true. Draco loved her, her husband would not leave her. They had so many promises they had yet to fulfill to the other, so many things they had yet to do, vows they had made before family and friends. It could not possibly –

Her line of thought was interrupted when Narcissa gently took the kettle from her hands, the tea cup overflowing onto the counter and on the floor around her. She looked up to the woman's soft blue eyes filled with unshed tears and understanding and she swallowed around the painful lump that had formed in her throat. "It is okay to cry, Hermione," she whispered softly, tucking a curl behind her ear.

She smiled or tried to, in effort to show she was alright. But the combined weight of their stares, her mother's own tears unleashed the weight she had been holding onto in vain. She sank to her knees in trembling sobs and where she thought she had cried her last, fresh tears and pain erupted anew. She felt arms thrown around her from both Narcissa and her mother and slowly she felt the arms of her father and Lucius as well.

She cried for her son, for the unfairness of it all, for her marriage, and for her husband who should have been the one in the kitchen holding her up through it all.

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_Five years ago_

"Do you even know how to cast the spell?" Hermione spoke from the bed. She currently lay upon their king-sized bed waiting for her husband to approach her. She twisted and turned her wedding bands on her finger nervously.

"Of course I do, I'm a Malfoy." She rolled her eyes; as if that was the answer to every question. Her husband was causally practicing wand movements before what was supposed to be the real deal, but she could see the nervous shakes of his wrist. He quietly admonished himself before he started over again. Ever the perfectionist.

"If that's the case, then I suppose I should be able to as well," she sarcastically remarked and a wave of anxiety washed over her again. "Would you come on?! I could go to Mungo's and back again and you still wouldn't be ready."

He raised a brow and softly admonished her, "Patience, love. Almost there." With another quick flick of the wrist, he soundlessly repeated the spell to himself and she lowered back into the pillows with a groan.

"Draco!"

"Alright, that should do it." He walked up to her beside the bed. "Ready?" he smirked.

As if he already did not know. "YES! I've been ready. I've been waiting for 'your majesty' to join us," she joked lightly to break the tension easing between her bones. He could see the apprehension building between his wife's eyes and dropped a kiss to her pink lips.

"Don't worry, love." She could not help but smile at his rogue grin. Something about his tone always eased her, no matter what the situation and with a few easy words, he set her heart free. Still her mind persisted and she tried to voice the nagging thought in the back of her head.

"But what-" She could not finish her train of thought before he interrupted her.

"Tsk. I said not to worry; now lay back and relax." He ran his hand softly through her hair, hoping to soothe her worry once and for all and she relaxed back into the overly large pillows on a sigh.

Before he could begin, he waited for her inevitable question. "So I take it you're not worried at all?" she asked in a small voice. Ah, right on time.

"Of course, I am. But it's not like this changes anything," he causally remarked.

She shot back up to a sitting position, incredulous at his flippant reply. "Of course it changes everything! We could be having a baby in nine months-"

He placed a firm hand to her shoulder to stop her before she took off. "Or we could not be having a baby in nine months. We'll take whatever comes our way. What matters is that _we'll_ still be here. Okay, Hermione? Whatever the outcome, it's still you and me." He looked her in the eye expectantly. "Right?"

She nodded and replied quietly, "Right. You and me." She pulled her husband down by his neck and kissed him once, then twice. "Thanks," she spoke when they separated.

"Don't mention it." He gave her a look that clearly asked 'was she finished?' and returned to stand over her. "Now, please lie back." She did as she was told, her worry assuaged. "I don't think you should feel anything. Ready?"

She nodded her head once and watched with wide eyes as her husband performed the pregnancy detection spell, his wand waving in intricate movements over her stomach. They both watched fascinated as a light glow emitted from his wand and seemed to sink into her belly. She willed herself not to move, as if some movement from her would break the spell.

Not even half a minute had passed before the light returned with their answer. Her mouth fell open in shock and Draco whooped loudly into the air. She barely had time to smile before she was enveloped by her most over-eager husband in a tight hug and the both sank back into the pillows. He kissed her soundly on the lips before concern flooded his eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" He tried to scramble off of her and look down between them. "What if I hurt the baby? Dear Merlin, I've squished it."

She grabbed his face to still his endearing concerns and brought his face down to hers. She kissed him back and he stilled for the moment. It did not stop him though for moving his lower half of body off of hers. He broke the sweet kiss and looked down at her stupid smile. "I thought you'd be going a mile a minute by now. Nothing to say?"

She shrugged and the goofy grin would not leave her face.

"Nothing at all? Merlin … this has to be recorded. Hermione Malfoy rendered silent." He wrapped his arms around his petite wife. "Why didn't I knock you up sooner? If I'd only known," he sighed to himself.

She laughed outright and he joined her, but she still had no words. She willed her mind to take in every moment, feeling and detail about the moment they found out they were going to be parents. Her hands traced through his hair and she wondered briefly would their child have his hair or hers. Excitement twinkled in her eyes.

"Well if my wife has been rendered mute, I guess I ought to say something." His words brought her attention back to him. He paused and started before he could actually get his mouth to work and the seriousness that entered his tone gave her pause. "You have never… looked more beautiful to me than the way you look right now." His free hand ran across her temple and into her hair.

She smiled, the spell temporarily broken. "Say that to me when I am swollen and thirty pounds heavier."

He kissed her nose. "I shall. Every day, if you wish." He pulled back and his hand gently caressed her stomach. "We're having a baby," he spoke in wonder. "Can you believe it?" She placed her hand on top of his.

She shook her head, a tear fighting to break free. "I can't." Emotions she could not hold onto escaped her: fear of whether she would be a good mother, if was she ready to be a mother, excitement of a tiny human she helped create growing within her and the most satisfying love that she had created it with the man above her. "But you and me, right?"

He looked back at her, the devotion and love reflecting in his eyes. He slowly nodded. "You and me, love. Come what may."

She grinned apologetically. "You mean come through nappies, bottles, late-night feedings, more nappies-" and he kissed her then. If she wasn't already pregnant, he would knock her up just to shut her up once more.

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_Present Day_

Draco knew that his parents and in-laws would no doubt remain behind after the throng of gawkers would leave. He never knew why Hermione tolerated these people to come over to their house, especially on _today_ of all days. All they did was stare and sputter some cheap, oft-repeated proverb before tripping over themselves in foolishness. It was the main reason he could barely sit through his son's funeral last year. He had listened in half-disgust as 'supposed' well-wishers clapped him on the shoulder and tried to explain to him the unfairness of the world. He had nearly hexed a friend of his father's to death after giving his 'condolences'.

He had not bothered to attend the burial. Something about seeing his son's body being lowered into the Earth did not sit right with him and he left his wife to her parents and his parents for that portion of the procession. Was it unfair? Probably. But the whole bloody ordeal was one shitty hand after another. She had her ways of coping, he had his. He had chosen to come back to his son's room after that and spent the remainder of the day on the floor next to his son's bed, a bottle of his parent's celebratory wine they had gifted for a past anniversary uncorked in his hand. He had drank the rest of the day away. And so his year had started.

Not wanting to ruin the 'tradition', he chose to remain in his room this year, again lost in a bottle rather than face well-wishers with his wife. The days had blended together in the year following Leo's death, the alcohol numbing any pain that had seeped through the surface until he could barely remember climbing into bed every night. He supposed that had something to do with his wife, but he never bothered to ask her.

They had spoken very little in these past few months. A strange routine had developed between them. He would wake up, drink, she would try to get him not to drink, he would yell at her and then, of course he would drink some more. She would get upset and they would spend the rest of the day separate from the other. He would fall asleep drunk somewhere and wake up back in their bed hung over. Another drink would start the next day and so on.

He lifted the bottle to his mouth for another swallow and watched as the world blurred around him. He leaned his head back against their bed, a litter of bottles strewn across the floor. He currently sat on the floor. He did not like to sit on their bed. Too many memories were wrapped on their bed. They probably conceived Leo on that bed, they discovered they were expecting on that bed (a memory the alcohol had released in his mind). Sometimes, he would drag Leo into their bed after a sleepless night against his wife's wishes. The infant would sleep right in between his parents and it seemed once he was safely snuggled between them in their bed rather than his own, he would drift off to sleep. There was still spit-up stains that magic could not erase from their mattress.

He ran a weary hand down his face, disgusted with the uneven shadow that adorned his face. He had seen too much in his twenty-eight years. A heavy pound on their bedroom door interrupted his thoughts. The weight of the knock cut through the back of his head and he had to squeeze his eyes against the noise. He hoped whoever it was would go away. Hermione never bothered him until he had passed out for the evening, she knew not to deal with his anger when inebriated.

But it seemed as if his father did not care, either that or he was feeling extremely lucky. "Come to admonish me?" he spoke as the shadow of his father loomed over him. He groaned and shut his eyes as his father wandlessly pulled back the curtains, allowing the sun to flood the once dark room. The pounding at the back of his head cut to the front of his eyes and he groaned again.

"No, I'm merely here at the request of your mother." Lucius looked at the bottles that covered the floor, scattered among the general mess of the once-lovely master suite. He wrinkled an eyebrow in distaste. "I have no problem leaving you to wallow in your filth."

Draco spread his hands wide. "By all means then…. 'ave at it."

"Your mother is concerned about your well-being." He paused slightly before continuing. "We all are." Carefully, he sat on the bed near his son. He was by no means close; Draco sat on the floor an arm's length away.

"No surprise there."

"Draco, I'm serious. Your wife needs you. She cannot do this alone and as her husband, it is your duty-"

Draco interrupted his father's lecture on husbandly responsibilities. "And whose duty is it to look out for my needs? Huh?" he raged as he tossed the half empty bottle across the floor. Lucius sighed and vanished the bottle before his son could protest. "She sure as hell isn't doing anything!"

"If she isn't, it's because you won't let her," he answered calmly, well aware of his son's mercurial moods. "That bottle takes care of all your needs now. How can she compete?"

Draco did not take patronizing lightly. "Fuck you. You know nothing of my marriage," he snarled. He moved to stand, but stumbled on his knees. He used his nightstand to right himself and cursed at the double-image of his father rising from the bed. The world slanted dangerously as he squinted where he thought his father was standing.

Lucius pulled his gloves on and pretended to inspect his sleeves. Draco stumbled back from the innate power that rumbled through the room; a warning. "I will let that slide, because today has been a difficult day for all of us. But rest assured, drunkard or not, I will not hesitate to put you in your place should you use that language with me again." He sighed, ready to take his leave. "Your wife is downstairs, Draco. Go and speak with her. A year ago, you buried your son. Do not ask your mother and I to bury ours a year from now." He moved to exit the room.

Through his drunken haze, Draco stared in anger. How dare he? As if they could ever understand what he was going through? He tried not think on all the empty promises he had made to Leo, all the things he said they would do once he got better, how much he wanted to protect him but couldn't. The irony wasn't lost on him. "Is t'is what it feels like, Father?" he asked coolly.

Lucius turned before he could walk through the door, the sight of his son holding himself up on the dresser pathetically burned in his brain. How far his once proud son had fallen. Draco took a wobbly step and held a finger out in accusation. "Is t-this what it feels like to fail your son? You … you would know all 'bout that, wouldn't you?" Malice dripped from his lips.

Lucius took a deep breath and briefly lowered his gaze under the weight of his son's accusation. The very same thoughts had haunted him since Leo's diagnosis and passing. It had not escaped him that perhaps this was all his fault somehow – that it was the universe's way of setting things right for all the wrongs he had committed and been spared. He found it cruel that the fates would see fit to take his innocent grandson in his place while he still lived. "No, son," he responded quietly. "At least I still had you. This is infinitely worse. I'll tell your mother I spoke with you." He left it at that and closed the door behind him with a soft click and swallowed deeply before he joined his wife and daughter in-law back in the kitchen. He paused to swipe the back of his finger at the corner of his eye quickly and resumed the role of comforter once more.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	3. Promises

_Author's note: Another chapter for you all. Thank you so much – I'm glad to see your positive response to this story. If you feel inclined, please review. I love reading what you think. ~_

* * *

Chapter Three: Promises

There was hardly anything left to clean afterwards. Her mum had cleaned her kitchen the muggle way and Narcissa, assisted as best she could before they had left for the day. That left Hermione with nothing but time and an idle mind; a poor combination indeed. She found herself in her favorite part of their house, their sunroom. The sun was setting and from her vantage point, she could see the sun sink into the west. She faced the grounds surrounding their home and the forest just beyond the hills. It was charmed never to be exposed to the elements and furnished with a large wicker sofa and plush cushions. The perfect place to read or escape.

She frowned at the cup of tea and vial of sleeping draught sitting on the stand beside her. Narcissa had pushed it in her hands before she left and insisted she take it. She had made no promises. By all accounts she would have loved to take it, but she never awoke feeling refreshed or relaxed afterwards. The same waking memories that she temporarily left behind always greeted her again when she awoke.

Her back straightened at the sound of heavy footsteps clunking down the stairs. She did not look to see who it was; there was only one other person in the house. She sighed and closed her eyes as she heard him move about the kitchen. Cabinets and pans clashed as he searched for something.

"Is there anything to eat in this bloody house?" he snapped.

The question did not seem to be directed at her, as he muttered it to himself, so she opened her journal beside her and set to write in it once more. After Leo's funeral, her parents had tried to get her to see a muggle therapist. It was intended for both her and Draco to attend, but he outright refused. She had attended one session, but she found herself psychoanalyzing the woman before her and things did not go well; it had been her first and only session. The one positive thing that came out of it was the suggestion of journaling her thoughts. Not that she had ever written in a journal before, but the feel of parchment and ink was familiar and safe. So she latched onto what she could.

She flipped through the first couple of pages she had started the weeks after the funeral. Not much had changed in her world, she mused to herself.

"I asked you a question."

Hermione looked up to see her husband standing in front of her. She closed her journal and took a fortifying breath. "Are you speaking to me now?" she asked calmly from the sofa. Her heart clenched at his disheveled state. There were dark circles under his red eyes, at least three days' worth of growth on his face. He had been letting his hair grow and it almost reached his shoulders now; he would have been dashing if his clothes were pressed and he did not reek of alcohol. She had to look away. This was not the man she had married.

"Is there anyone else?" he asked slowly. She could hear the barely-held restraint to his voice and she wondered why he was even trying. Did he not just tell her he wanted out of their marriage that morning? That he was just giving up? And now he was asking her for something to eat? Ire flooded her vision and she stood sharply from her place on the sofa. She could always count on her anger to fall back on if nothing else.

"Get it your damn self! It's in the same place it's always been. Or are you too drunk to see it? Wait, don't answer that; I already know the answer!" She marched past him, her hair cackling with static energy.

"Ladies and gentleman, my wife!" He threw his arms in the air in a mockery and clapped sardonically as she walked away from him. "The ever compassionate, bleeding heart Gryffindor. She'll save the world from the Dark Lord, but leave her husband to **fucking starve**!" he shouted after her.

She had tried to ignore him, really she had. But she only made it to the stairs before she whirled on him in righteous anger. "Don't you _dare!_" she hissed through her teeth. "Don't you dare act like I don't care about you, like I haven't … who's been the one to clean the house after your drunken fits? Huh? Who rolls you over so you don't choke to death on your own bile?" She stalked back to him one step at a time. "You would have been dead ten times over if it wasn't for me, so you don't dare take that fucking tone with me, Draco Malfoy!" He opened his mouth to reply but weeks' worth of anger overpowered her.

"And you know it!" she accused in a high pitch, as hot tears of anger gathered in her eyes. "I have done everything, _everything _for you and you sit there … and _drown_ in that vile drink, like I haven't suffered," she choked back a sob, "like I don't grieve and then y–you … you 'can't _do_ this anymore,'" she mocked his words back to him. "_Do what_? Fall down drunk and verbally assault your wife anymore? Because you sure as _hell _aren't doing anything else!" Her chest heaved in anger and she watched as his eyes narrowed to calculating slits.

"Are you finished?" his lips turned down into a sneer. "'Cause I know you're itching to say more. Always have been."

"Are_ you?_" she asked to another end entirely. The sudden strength that had bolstered through her anger waned. She hesitantly took another step towards him; the small breakfast nook stood between them. She was convinced that the man she married was still there, even after all this. Almost six years they had been married. She was hurt, but she was not resigned to give up just yet. Not if he hadn't.

They stared at each other across the room, years of love, pain and trust between them. Draco's mouth twisted and his gaze dropped to the floor. "My son is dead," he whispered, his eyes lost in memory. She nodded slowly and bit her lip. She would not interrupt him. Her gut twisted with the sickening feeling that 'this was it'. He was either in or out. "This marriage … is practically non-existent."

"It doesn't have to be." She blinked back tears and rounded the small table to stand in front of him. She wanted to reach forward to take his hand, but she held back. He would have to make the first move. She had already thrown herself out there too many times before only to be burned. "You always told me that no matter what, it would always be you and me … you promised," her voice sounded small and she hated it.

A small tear escaped his eye and she felt the stirrings of her heart begin to crumble. "Promises get broken, love."

.

.

_Two Years Ago_

Evenings in the Malfoy household were anything but peaceful. Leo Malfoy used the time after his bath but before his bedtime to tear through the upper level on a nightly occurence. Hermione said he was 'fighting sleep'.

Draco called over the noise to his wife, "Is it the mexo … trax, methotr—bloody hell, I can't read this small shit," he said to himself. He twisted the small orange bottle in his hand, desperately trying and failing to read the writing on the label.

"Your reading glasses are on the wardrobe, dear. I believe they will help." Hermione carried Leo in her arms. The active two-year old struggled to the floor and she happily let him down and he set off for parts unknown. She walked to the middle of their bedroom as Draco donned his glasses and joined him in reading the label.

"Methotrexate? Really?" He removed the spectacles from his head and leered at the bottle as his wife took it from his hands. "We have to give him this how many times a day?" he asked in disbelief.

"Once a day, twice on Fridays, it seems." She looked at him with an apprehensive smile. "So how you suppose we go about this?"

He shrugged, at a lost. "Hide it in his food?"

She shook her head. "It has to be on empty stomach. His doctors said preferably after the evening meal before bed -"

"Of course the bloody 'doctors' know best!" He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll go get Leo. So we are just shoving it down his throat?"

Hermione scrunched her face. "That sounds barbaric."

"How else do you get a toddler to take medication? And not just any toddler, but the smartest toddler I've ever seen," he boasted smugly as he ran after the boy who had just sprinted back into their room. In two quick strides, he snatched up his son who shrieked and squirmed to get out of his father's arms.

They had tried begging, they had tried rewarding, they had tried negotiating, but Leo just raised an eyebrow that made Hermione laugh in Draco's face. They tried coercion, but that quickly went nowhere. They tried to pretend to take the pill along with Leo and made sounds of how delicious it tasted, but he saw through their terrible acting skills entirely.

Almost an hour later, their toddler still laughed and out danced their arms as he ran away from his silly parents' antics – it was a game to him and he was winning. Draco sat on the floor, tired and out of ideas. "Um, this isn't working. They didn't give you a manual or something at the hospital on how to administer this stuff?" Draco's shoulders slumped.

Hermione came and sat next to him on the floor. Both watched their son trek across the floor, a toy broom in one hand. "Not exactly. I think they leave that part up to you to figure out."

"You'd think they have an easier way for kids to take this stuff." He sat back on his hands.

"I doubt he even knows what this is for," she mused. "He will probably have no memory of this part of his life. At least we can be grateful for that."

"Small miracles," he agreed and wrapped and arm around his wife's shoulder, pulling her closer to him. They sat for a few quiet moments before he spoke again. "How are you doing?" he asked softly.

She sighed beneath him. "Are you my muggle Healer now?" She scooted to lay her head down in his lap and smiled back up at him.

He shook the small orange bottle, the pills rattling inside. "I am the medicine man," he paused pretending to be deep in thought before he looked back down at her. Her hair fanned across his lap and he loved the way she looked, spread out beneath him. He fought to keep his smile from breaking through as he spoke, "Although I'm afraid there is no known cure for the 'Grangers'. I'm sorry," he frowned in mock sympathy.

Her eyebrows rose. "The Grangers? My, I've never heard of that one before. Newly discovered?" He nodded. "The symptoms?" she asked eagerly.

He thought quickly. "Bossiness. An incessant need to talk all the time. Jabbing one's finger in another's chest. Ow!" He rubbed his chin. "Like that. Unfortunately, it manifests in the hair and then … well, I'm afraid it's too late for you."

She blinked trying to hold back her ridiculous laughter. "Whatever shall I do, Healer Malfoy?"

"Take two of these, then call me in the morning." He lowered his head to kiss her chastely once, then deeply on the second kiss. Before she could admonish him for being so silly, a blond bundle jumped on top of them with a yell and the moment unfortunately, was broken.

"Dada kiss Mummy!" Leo yelled, rolling around on his parents.

Draco wrapped his arms around Leo and pulled him back before he could take off again. "Come here, you!"

Hermione grabbed the prescription bottle that had rolled away and gave Draco a look. "Care to try again?" she asked. She quickly opened the cap and took about one small pill.

He nodded, Leo secure in his lap. "He has to take it someway." Both shared a wary look and went for it again. After the first failed attempt of trying to get the pill in his mouth, both promptly broke down and promised to give Leo ice cream if he took the pill. He happily obliged. Who knew it could be so easy?

Once the youngest Malfoy was finally asleep for the evening, both parents decided to relax in Hermione's sunroom. They could not stray too far in case Leo got up for a glass of water, but it was still far enough that they could talk in private.

"Let's talk about something else," Hermione suddenly announced. They both sat squished together on the small loveseat, but they did not mind enclosed space. "I'm tired of talking about medicine, appointments and procedures. Let's change the subject." She pulled her feet up into his lap.

"Alright. What do you want to talk about?"

"Hmmm," she pretended to think. "Tell me something I don't know about you." Her eyes twinkled.

"We've been married for how long now?" he asked, incredulously. "Don't you know everything there is to know?" A blond brow shot up in response.

She picked at the arm of the sofa. "Humor me. There has to be something you haven't shared with me. A deep dark secret," she mocked playfully.

"I think you know them all," he chuckled.

"Come on. I'll go first. But you have to answer!" She waited until he agreed before she began. "Okay, well when I was younger, before I found out I was a witch, I wanted to be a ballerina," she sighed dreamily.

"I already knew that. That doesn't count," he drawled, bored.

"Okay, okay. Fine." She looked at him and bit back a smile. "When Leo was an infant, I secretly liked the way his dirty nappies smelled," she rushed on at his affronted look. "They smelled like fruit to me!" she explained.

"Dear Merlin, woman! What is the matter with you?!" His face twisted in mock-horror and he tried to move away from her, but there was nowhere to go on the small couch. Her feet held him in place.

She laughed and punched him lightly in the arm. "Well, there you go. I told you one. Now, tell me something _I_ don't know." She sat back and crossed her arms.

After a moment, "I bite my fingernails." He held out his hand to her.

She rolled her eyes. "Already know that one. You think I haven't seen your side of the bathroom. It's disgusting!"

"Not as disgusting as huffing Leo's soiled underwear. Hey!" He gave her the 'warning look' as she hit him again. He started again, "Fine. Umm well, okay. I am _not_ ticklish." He sat back against the cushion at his 'shocking' revelation.

She leered at him. "Really? I don't believe you. Everyone is ticklish somewhere." She moved closer to him.

He stopped her questing hand inching closer to his body. "Really. In all the time you've known me, have I ever?" She shook her head slowly at his unfinished question. "Well, there you go. Satisfied?"

"_Really_? Draco Malfoy isn't ticklish anywhere on his body?" Her finger experimentally scratched against him, but he made no movement. After a few more well-placed pokes, she sat back in disbelief. "Wow, you really are cold-blooded. And here I thought Ron and Harry were wrong all these years—"

She was interrupted rather rudely by her husband, who knew _she_ was quite ticklish. He assaulted her midsection and squealed loudly against him; tears ran out of her eyes. She prayed her laughter would not wake up their son.

.

.

_Present Day_

"Even in the hardest of times, we still laughed and cried. But we did it together," Hermione spoke through her tears. "Or have you forgotten?" Their house stood oddly quiet, any indication that a once happy family stayed there long gone. In its place instead were two broken adults.

"I have not forgotten. How can I? It haunts my every move," he closed his eyes on a sigh. The effects of the alcohol we starting to wear thin. All that remained were a throbbing headache and a thick taste on his tongue. The ache within his chest started to return as well. It doubled as he opened his eyes and took in his crying wife.

"I'm still here, Draco." He blinked at her words. She had moved like a ghost on autopilot these past few months. Or had he not noticed? The alcohol had blinded him to his surroundings to the point he could barely remember any time they interacted with each other, not counting the yelling. This was probably the longest conversation they had engaged within a mature manner in months. He wondered how long it would last before they descended back into familiar routines: he drinking and she yelling.

If he had allowed himself to look truly in these past months, he would have noticed his wife's physical appearance a long time ago. Looking at her now, he knew she had lost a dramatic amount of weight. Her clothes barely fit anymore. Her hair lacked its usual luster and her eyes held the weight of the world within them. He figured he was not that much different in her eyes.

He did not know why she did not leave him to it then. If the alcohol was going to kill him, so be it. It was better than dealing with his heart constantly hurting, this incessant pain that simmered and boiled, but never left. It cut deeper than the Mark on his forearm ever did. But unlike the Mark, it never faded. At least he would be with his son, he had once accepted after a particularly long binge.

She had found him then, too; that first Christmas without Leo. Hermione knew better than decorate their house too much lest it seemed festive, but she had insisted on putting up that damn tree. There were no toys or presents stashed to the brim last year. She had said 'he' would want one up, so she did. He had destroyed it in a drunken rage and cut his hands on the glass ornaments. He did not remember the rest of the night. The last thing he remembered was blood and bile all over the loo and himself. She had stayed with him all night until he vomitted blood and offered him water, while she healed his hands.

He never knew what it must have meant to see him destroy their tree. He had not bothered to ask her opinion at the time. He imagined it hurt a lot; she never told him though.

"Why?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Why, what?"

"Why are you still here? Why haven't you left? If I've been such an arse, why are you still here?" He had to admit, he was curious.

"This is my home and you are my husband. Where else would you have me go?" She shook her head. "Why are you trying to push me away?" He jumped back in surprise. He had not been trying to push her away and he told her.

More tears gathered in her eyes. Two years ago, he would have pulled her into a hug and they would have cried together. Now, he just stood there quietly regarding her. He wondered if it was too late to go back.

"If you weren't, then you … you would have been there all those nights I needed you. I am sick and tired of crying myself to sleep every night after dragging your drunken arse into bed. I am tired of doing this own my own. He was our son, _our son_, Draco! I'm hurting too, but you don't care about anything except your own selfish needs and feelings. I want to talk about him, not walk around like he didn't exist." She rushed to within a step of him, but she still did not touch him. "I want to share these memories with you because … because it's all I have left. I can't lose them. It's not the same with my parents or yours. They weren't there like you were." He swallowed deeply at her use of the past tense, but she continued. "And when I needed you the most … I couldn't find you." She looked at him expectantly.

He wanted to tell her he felt all those things, but oddly his mouth couldn't move. Guilt washed over him and he felt as if he had failed his son and his wife equally. He felt pathetic and unworthy; his family had fallen apart around him while he lost himself in a bottle. His eyes lowered to the floor and words he could not say lodged in his throat. He met her in the eyes and even through her hurt and pain, he could see she was waiting. Maybe there was a small amount of forgiveness there as well. "It hurts," was all he could say. She nodded in agreement. "I … don't know how to," he finished abruptly, words failing him again.

"Neither do I. Just tell me … do you want to stay?" _with me_, he heard her unspoken question.

He suddenly had a glimpse of what life would be without this woman before him. This woman who was a brilliant mother and a loving wife, even in the midst of this mess he had checked out of, she remained by his side. She had deserved better. Perhaps it would be for the best if he left her, so she could start life anew with someone who could love her and cherish her properly, without their painful past. She deserved a husband who would not yell at her, berate her and then leave her to her pain alone.

He used to be such a husband. He thought himself too far gone to be that man ever again. But he was, if nothing else, selfish and he could not deny that he still held love for the waiting witch before him. "I want to stay." He reached forward and grabbed her fingers hesitantly. Her wedding ring still sat on her left hand and he fingered the band and pondered its unspoken meaning. She squeezed his hand back quickly.

The feel of her hand around his was foreign and shocking; it had been so long since they had last touched, but strangely it felt the same as it did then. He looked up at her then. Years' worth of intimate touches, caress, hugs, and kisses flashed through his eyes and he realized with a gasp, he had missed it. It had left a strange void in his life. A void that could only ever be filled by her, try as he had to replace it. But no amount of alcohol would ever be able to replace neither her nor his son. Sure there were other things missing, but he could not lose such an integral piece to his very existence.

He stepped forward and moved his arms around her frame slowly. She did not move and he had to pull her against him. It was forced, and he clenched his jaw against the awkwardness, but he was trying. She stood immobile within his hold, breathing in what was sure to be alcohol fumes and dirty clothes, but she laid her head on his chest regardless in a timid gesture. "I remember you," she whispered and lifted her arms around his back. He stiffened at the contact, but relaxed after a moment.

He lowered his head onto of her hair and sighed. No, it did not feel like it used to be; someone else was missing from this Malfoy embrace. But it was a start. He felt closer to home than he had in long while.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	4. Birthday

Chapter Four: Birthday

For all her years spent at the ancestral Malfoy home, the past year had certainly been the quietest. Her home had never felt more alive than when Draco would tear endlessly through the ancient halls in his youth. Although he had been an only child, he was never one to escape mischief. The Manor was forever filled with the antics of him and the elves in some new game they were always inventing. By the time he had aged into adolescence, he was joined by a precocious, young Pansy Parkinson and the ever-endearing Blaise Zabini as they trekked through the grounds in adventure or the like. It had made for quite an exciting few years that Narcissa treasured.

Although his formative years were shadowed by the ever-growing presence of the Dark Lord, there were still times of brevity when holiday cheer would encompass the entire house. After the fallout of the War, Draco had decided to set out on his own much to her dismay. She understood his need to put the past behind him and not even his father could change his mind about moving out. He would, of course, start his work with Malfoy Enteprises alongside his father, but it did not change the fact that her home was once again, empty.

She was treated to brief visits and stays during the holidays during his adult years, but they were not the same. Something was pulling her son away from her and the Manor. She could read it in the way his mind was easily distracted during their family meals. She would try to engage him on current events or receive updates on the goings-on in his life, but his concentration would break easily. It was as if his mind was somewhere else and whenever she mentioned settling down, he would turn the most interesting shade of pink as if he held a deep secret. It was not until he was in his early twenties that she found the reason to be a _certain_ War Heroine. Apparently, they had run into each other while traveling abroad: she, on holiday and him on behalf of the company. She gathered Ms. Granger had certainly left an impression on her son as he had never been the same man in the years following.

Oh, that had been a most interesting conversation indeed. She could vividly remember the afternoon her son sat them all down to an uncomfortable conversation. She smiled lightly at Lucius uncharacteristic stutter as he repeated his son's words back to room. 'Marriage' and 'Hermione Granger' were not words she would have ever believed to come forth from her son's lips, but there it was. He had come to ask his parent's blessing to wed Harry Potter's best friend. Narcissa had long gathered that a witch was behind her son's sudden change in moods, his reasons for not visiting as much, and his reluctance to talk about his personal life. But as he sat down opposite of her in their parlor and tried to verbalize how happy he was and how wonderful Ms. Granger truly was, she knew that there would be no way to dissuade her son's decision. He was a young man in love.

She smiled in remembrance at how easily she had accepted his decision, much to her husband's and son's shock. Surely, they did not think that she would disapprove of one who made her son so deliriously happy and she had told him so. Because he was. His whole demeanor had changed and gone was the young man who had once felt the weight upon his shoulders and in his place was a man who was infinitely lighter and happier. Surprisingly, it had only taken a slight touch to Lucius' arm and warm smile before he gruffly relented and agreed to the union.

He was not happy at first, but he did his best to remain civil to Ms. Granger at all the pre-wedding events. It was rough she imagined, for all of them, but the War was over and this was their future. She had long accepted that and chided her husband in private to do the same.

It had been certainly hard (that was one way of putting it) to coordinate and mingle with the entire Weasley clan, Harry Potter and seemingly the entire Gryffindor house before the ceremony, but she did it for Draco. Tensions had boiled a few times between her husband and Mr. Arthur Weasley, as well between Draco and Ronald (Hermione's ex-boyfriend at the time). Strangely, Narcissa found it easier to get along with Mr. and Mrs. Granger, imagine that. But it seemed that whatever tension may have been mounting in the air between the two families melted the moment Hermione and her father appeared at the end of the aisle on her wedding day. Unabashedly, she had felt tears sting her eyes and the entire courtyard gasped at the lovely bride Hermione had become. Her gown was impeccably beautiful and she wore Draco's grandmother's pearls with an effortless grace that made Narcissa beam with a pride like no other. The young bride blushed from all the attention and Narcissa was taken back to her own wedding day.

While the gallery watched Hermione make her way down the aisle, she chanced a look at her husband and son. Both wore identical masks of surprise, mouths hanging humorously agape, but no words could describe the look of love and reverence that graced her son's face as he took in his bride with a slow smile. The tears her eyes had held onto fell as she watched Hermione take Draco's hand and join him on the altar and she knew then that this was _right._ Nothing could feel any righter. She felt the large chunk of ice that kept her husband slightly reserved break that night as he watched his son vow his life and love to Hermione. With a wistful sigh as they became man and wife, she knew that things would be okay between them all, Weasleys included.

Narcissa imagined that it was not until eleven months after the ceremony that the last, small remaining piece of ice had completely melted between Hermione and Lucius.

.

_Four Years Ago_

It was an abnormally busy day at St. Mungo's for the end of March and the two had to impatiently wait behind a line of visitors at the entrance desk. A few years ago, Lucius would have barged his way to the front desk and demand an escort to his daughter-in-law's room. Today, they inched forward in the line with the everyone else and Narcissa could not help smirking at the irony.

"This is complete madness," her husband whispered beside her. "She could be having the baby this instant and we would miss it because of the ineptitude of these drones," he sneered as they moved one person closer to the front desk.

"Patience, dear. You know as well as I do that these things take time. Especially since it is their first. I'm sure we have plenty of time," she reassured, although her fingers were clenching with nervous energy inside her cloak. "Draco owled us as soon as they left; I doubt the baby's made an appearance yet." But inside, she was just as excited as Lucius to get to her son's side and if this line did not move any faster, she would drag Lucius' hand—

"Good evening, how can I help you?" A young witch greeted them as their turn arose.

Narcissa smiled politely. "Yes, we need Hermione Malfoy's room number, please." She tried to hide the urgency from her voice and her fingers tapped against the counter as the witch slowly looked through the files. She could hear Lucius grumble beneath her breath as she rushed out to the young woman. "We're in a hurry. It's our first grandchild," she happily explained, the words making the moment seem all the more real.

The young woman returned her smile warmly. "Congratulations. Yes, Hermione Malfoy … she's in room twenty three eighteen."

Narcissa could hardly give her thanks as Lucius roughly pulled her away from the woman's desk and out of the line abruptly. "Lucius!" she chided.

"Come along. We don't have time for chit-chat, Cissa." The stoic mask he wore was firmly in place, but she was not fooled. She could read the anxiety a mile away. Lucius Malfoy was nervous.

Narcissa smiled and allowed her husband to drag her towards their intended room. They reached the second floor and found their son pacing sharply at the end of the hallway. Narcissa hurried her steps and called out as she reached her son.

"Draco!" she called as she neared him. "Is everything alright? We came as soon as we heard." Her eyes lifted over her son's form and took in the mismatched clothes and disheveled hair. It seemed as if the young couple had dressed in a hurry. She gathered that their evening wakeup call did nothing to slow their arrival to the hospital. Her son looked tired and she wanted to warn him lightly that his tiredness was about to soon multiply exponentially, but she halted at the fear reflecting back in his grey orbs.

Draco nodded wordlessly and she reached an arm out to steady his. "What is it?" she implored.

"Hermione's fine, but I don't know what to do," he confessed and ran a hand through her hair. "I can't get word to her mum. She was supposed to come stay at our house next week, but the baby's coming early and I don't know how to get in touch with her. I'm afraid she won't make it," he sputtered. "She wants her here. I don't have a fucking clue what's going on in, I'm probably useless and– "

Her delicate hand tightened on Draco's arm to snap him out of his tirade and he shut his mouth at the pressure. "Stop. Draco, just stop. Breathe," she instructed and held his gaze. "You're not useless. Your wife needs you. In fact, I'm sure you need to get back in there right now." She looked behind her to Lucius who nodded briefly. "Lucius will try to contact the Weasleys since they know about Muggle communication or whatever, but we will find them, okay?" He nodded once more. "Okay." She beamed and pulled him into a brief hug. "Oh son, I'm so happy for you!" He returned her hug and quickly they broke apart and entered the hospital room.

She knew Hermione was a woman of modern times and outright refused to deliver the way she had delivered Draco (at home with a midwife), but currently, her daughter-in-law was in sharp pain, having chosen to hold out on medical intervention. She had wanted the option of pain relief available, but she was trying to forgo it.

Draco immediately raced back to his wife's side and hesitantly wiped his thumb across her brow, which was laced with perspiration, seemingly at a loss for what else he should do. Hermione rolled over to her side and clutched the bed rail in pain and Draco looked helplessly from his wife to his mother.

Narcissa stood frozen at the sight of this woman laboring to bring her grandchild into the world and her heart lurched at her sacrifice. She lightly approached Hermione's other side and dismissed the nurse that was currently trying to coach her through her contraction. She grabbed Hermione's hand and squeezed. Hermione's eyes snapped open as she seemed to just acknowledge the older woman's presence and the two shared a look as the contraction lessened and waned.

"I would be honored to stand in for your mother until she arrives. That is, if it is okay with you," she softly offered and squeezed her hand again in reassurance. Hermione could only nod once before another contraction set in again and she closed her eyes on a grimace. "Draco, I need you to count to ten? Slowly, okay?" At his nod of agreement, she ordered swiftly, "Now." As he began to count, she softly spoke to Hermione who was lost in the world of labor. "Hermione, focus on your husband's voice. Hear the numbers and count along with him in your head. You're almost there, sweetheart. You're doing so good. Nine. Ten," she finished with Draco. Hermione let out a ragged breath as the worst of the contraction crested and passed.

She lay back against the pillows breathing in deeply through her nose, the fear of another contraction gracing her features. Draco offered her water and assisted her in drinking the cool liquid. "I don't know if I can do this," she offered weakly.

Narcissa pulled a damp curl behind her ear and lifted her hand to hair. "Yes, you can. Your body was made to do this. You come from a strong line of women before you who have done this many times over. Do not worry, dear. I'm here, Draco's here and you will get through this. I promise it will be _so_ worth it in the end." The fear remained on Hermione's face as she looked between her and Draco.

Hermione nodded, after a moment. "Okay." She tried to form a half-smile. "Thank you for being here."

Pride and love swelled through her for this young woman before her. "Of course. I could think of nowhere else I want to be." A few moments later another contraction set in and Narcissa indicated for Draco to begin again and thus, they began an exhausting pattern for the next few hours. Neither left her beside. By time the Healer returned to begin the actual birthing process, all three were damp with sweat and exhaustion, but both held firm to Hermione's hands.

Dawn broke as Leo Draco Malfoy entered the world and Narcissa could only sit back in amazement as the new parents cooed and awed over their newborn son. She allowed them a peaceful moment together alone as she stepped back into the hallway now filled with awaiting family members and friends. She could only nod happily as she gushed that it was a boy before she was bombarded with requests to hold the baby and personally congratulate the couple. It was overwhelming and the sight of Lucius pulling Hermione's parents behind him through the crowd gave her pause. She pleaded for the group to wait as she ushered the grandparents into the small room.

A sense of peace, wonder and happiness filled the air as little Leo was passed from his parents to his grandparents, but none more so than when Draco shifted the blue bundle to his father. Narcissa could not help the tears that fell for the umpteenth time that day as she watched her husband stare in wonder at his first grandson. She could see any former prejudices he might have still held onto fade as he pulled his grandson into his chest. It had been so long since her husband had held an infant, going on twenty-four years now to be exact, but he held his grandson as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Lucius looked from the sleeping infant to his daughter-in-law dozing lightly in the bed. "Thank you," he murmured, his eyes uncharacteristically bright. "Thank you." And he returned back to staring at his grandson, the newest Malfoy heir. It was a moment she would never forget.

.

.

_Present Day_

Activity and noise had returned to the Manor after that and Narcissa found herself happily chasing after her grandson as he marked his way through his ancestral home. It was like old times again and she would squeal with delight whenever Draco and Hermione would drop off Leo for a well-deserved night out. Even Lucius who had grown quite accustomed to the quiet would join in on the fun. But their home had since reverted back to its quiet nature; only the elves working were the signs that any activity occurred in house at all.

"Cissa, care to join me for a walk?" Lucius called behind her. She turned from her perch above the bedroom windows overlooking the grounds to find her husband pulling on his cloak. "It's too much of a nice day to sit inside."

He was running interference again, she knew. More often than not, she would find herself slipping into memories and would sit lost wondering where her life went wrong. Lucius had been left with the unfortunate task to pull her back to the present more times than she cared to count. She figured it was wearing on him terribly and although she resolved to be fair and try to stop her mind for useless wandering, it still happened for time to time.

Accepting the distraction for what it was, she agreed to join her husband for a walk through the gardens. Spring was in full bloom with the warmer than usual weather and her garden hummed with new life. It was her favorite time of year for many reasons and she tried to find solace in the beauty around her. Her thoughts never strayed from her family for too long.

"Do you think they will be okay?"

"Hmm," Lucius answered, distracted.

"The children," she clarified. "So much has been unfairly placed on them and I fear … I fear the worst," her voice lowered. "Draco hasn't been the same since."

"No one has," he replied stiffly. "It will take time. But I think they will be alright." He squeezed the arm that was intertwined with his own. "_We _will be alright."

"Will we?" she whispered. "This family has suffered so much. I – I sometimes think that this is entirely my fault," she carried on over Lucius' impending interruption. "No, please. Let me finish. I always wondered if I could have gone back and persuaded Draco not to take the Mark. If I would have just been more insistent and not allowed it to happen. We could have found another way. Then he wouldn't have committed all those atrocious acts, then maybe none of this would have befallen him and Hermione," she reached. "He was in pain for so long and just when he got a brief glimpse of happiness…" Her eyes watered. "It was so cruelly taken from him. It's not fair," she finished, her lips turned down in deep frown.

"No one ever said it was, dear," he hesitated briefly before continuing on. "But Draco is a strong wizard. He will overcome this—they both will." He squeezed her arm and looked away. He did not have the courage to tell her that her fears were his own.

She inclined her head in thought. "After the funeral, I would have agreed with you. They both seemed to cling to each other in a way that made me think that maybe they would be alright. But things have only deteriorated over there. You have seen it, too. Our son is _not_ the man he used to be. Hermione is all by herself and no one should have to deal with this by themselves." She looked to her husband, hope etched on her face. "You've spoken with him. Did you reach him?"

His face soured as he recalled the last words shared between father and son. "I did speak with him. If my message reaches him remains to be seen." Shame cloaked the elder Malfoy as he recalled their conversation on failure. It seemed it was a Malfoy curse for fathers to let down their sons. He felt the blame was equally laid upon his shoulders as well, but his stubborn son was too intoxicated to see that anyone else, besides him, was hurting and lashed out on everyone, including his wife.

"I can't lose him as well," Narcissa whispered and even the beauty of the bulbs and trees around her could not warm her spirit. "I can't."

"I know."

The two made their way through the expansive gardens before taking a cobblestone path that led towards a lake behind the Manor. Narcissa picked a daffodil from the flower bed as their feet took them on a path of their own accord. It gave her an odd mixture of happiness and sadness that her grandson was buried in the Malfoy family cemetery alongside his ancestors. It was to be all the Malfoys' final resting place, but not his until long after she and Lucius had left this earth.

Both stood silent before the small marker and she lowered the daffodil to the ground below. Lucius watched as she whispered a few words to herself before she lightly touched the marker and stood back to join him. A few quiet moments passed. Lucius quietly put an arm around his wife and sighed with her. He willed his mind to think of other things: a list of chores to give to the elves, how work was needed on the East Wing, that business meeting that was coming up with representatives from the Americas. All passed through his mind to keep … other thoughts from taking their place. He grieved in his own way and within a minute gently turned his wife back towards the Manor.

A warm wind played with her hair and she smiled in spite of herself. "Do you remember how Leo got into the flour that was to be for his birthday cake?"

His arm wrapped around his wife's waist once more. "How can I forget? The verbal lashing you gave me afterwards was legendary."

She clucked her tongue at him. "You were supposed to watching him," she willed herself to smile at the memory. "How he got from your study on the second floor to the kitchen on the first, I'll never know."

"You and Hermione were upset with me for the rest of the evening, if I recall correctly," he drawled beside her and she looked to see a slow smile spreading on his face.

"And rightly so!" She laughed, and despite her pain, it felt good. It still hurt; but she could not deny the happiness that surrounded her at the memory. If only she could share it with her son and daughter-in-law.

Her husband pulled her in close and whispered into her ear. "I also recall that I made it up to you after the festivities, most enthusiastically," he smirked as a blush crept up her neck.

Before she could respond, a tiny house-elf appeared before them, hoping on one leg, back and forth. "Master! Master! Teeny is sorry! There is a call for you!"

"What is it, Teeny?" Lucius asked, annoyed at the interruption.

"It's Mistress Hermione! She's at Mungo. She said it's Master Draco!" Before the elf could continue, twin cracks of Apparition signaled that the Lord and Lady of the house had abruptly left the garden. No further information was necessary.

* * *

_Please review and let me know what you think! I love hearing from you! And thank you sincerely to all who have alerted and reviewed this story. I'm glad you're enjoying this. _


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